Posts Tagged ‘e-readers’

Oppressed by books

January 23, 2019

My study has needed re-painting for a while, and I finally tackled it last week; it took far longer than I expected, because of the books, and rather alarmingly, by the end of it, I felt quite oppressed by them. Although the study is quite roomy, it’s full of stuff, all of which had to be moved, along with the 1000 or so books on six different sets of shelves, before a particular section of the room could be painted. As I finally re-shelved the last of the books, I did a small cull, wishing I could do a bigger one. Am I ever going to read that again? I found myself thinking.

There’s always an – and yet – though.

There’s a particular physical comfort and sensual pleasure from being surrounded by books, most of which I’m quite attached to in some way or other. Many of them are physically nice objects, with quality paper, good quality binding, well looked-after… and that’s before I think about the contents. I love the Everyman’s Library series and have quite a lot of these: they are not OTT in the way I find the Folio Society collection, for example. And I also have quite a lot of cheap French paperbacks, which I like for their fine design – echoing Penguin in earlier days – and basic quality paper.

I like the various sections that line my study: almost a wall of travel writing which I’ve gradually collected over the last couple of decades, a wall of literature with its complete hardback Arden Shakespeare Second Series in individual volumes, shelves of history, atlases. I feel at home in this room, and it’s good to have so much within easy reach of my enormous desk.

And yet, I felt oppressed. Many of the books will go eventually, as I age, and re-read before reluctantly parting with them. But others need to go now. I piled up all the Polish albums of photos of cities, gifts from the socialist era when there was plenty of spare cheap printing capacity and the regime wanted to boast both of the nation’s past and the socialist construction: I probably looked through them a couple of times forty years ago and never since. I don’t have the time or the inclination to try and sell books online, so they will go to Amnesty. And there are many other lovely coffee-table type books that I cannot bear to part with at the moment.

I know that a disciplined approach would have me ruthlessly go through everything and select only the books I could definitely justify keeping (ha ha!). I recognise that my feelings are changing with age, and I do try and de-clutter, but I cannot understand the various lifestyle coaches who just say ‘get rid of it all, you can always buy it again if you need it’ and readers who claim to keep everything they need on their e-readers cannot really be serious, in my books. My books do increasingly remind me of my mortality: they can outlive me, and will not have the associations they have for me, for others…

Anyway, I now have a newly-painted study, in exactly the same colours as it was before but cleaner and fresher, and in another ten years I may well not care about re-decorating…

The book as perfect object

August 7, 2016

The book as we know it is a pretty nearly perfect piece of design, which hasn’t really changed since the codex – a number of sheets attached to each other, inside a protective cover of some kind – replaced the scroll at some point during Roman times. It’s never really been clear whether Brutus’ book, referred to in Act IV of Julius Caesar, and of which he turns down the corner of a page (!) is an anachronism introduced by Shakespeare, rather like the striking clock which features in the same play, or a thing which had actually developed by that time…

So, although handwritten at first, before the invention of printing, and on vellum or parchment before the advent of paper, bound in leather or wood before the invention of cardboard, the object has been a familiar one for getting on for two millennia. It’s obviously much more widespread nowadays, too, and relatively cheaper – somewhere I recall reading that in Chaucer’s time, when a book still had to be hand-written by a scribe, it would cost roughly the same amount as a modest house… were that still the case, I’d be a multi-millionnaire!

When you look more closely, a book is a marvel of versatility. Nowadays, it can contain illustrations or not. It can be cheaply produced for mass circulation, as a paperback, or made more lasting and durable, printed on acid-free paper and in hard covers. It can vary greatly in size, from the smallest paperback to the huge Times Comprehensive Atlas which I value so much. It can be an exciting novel or a dull telephone directory – though why they bother to produce those any more, I cannot fathom.

The way it’s laid out is also logical as well as variable. After the title page, there can be a contents page; at the end there can be an index, although some countries have the – to me – rather curious convention of putting both contents and index at the end of the book. Notes can be included, as foot- or end-notes. And – though less common nowadays – at the very end, other books which might be of interest to a reader can be discreetly advertised.

People have prophesied the disappearance of the printed book for most of my life, initially in fantasies about an electronic future, and more recently with the appearance of e-readers and tablets. And yet recent surveys have show that our friend the printed tome continues to hold its own, even to become more popular, whilst its electronic rival fades – our leading chain of bookshops has discontinued selling the most popular brand of e-reader.

And I can see why. I find my e-reader a frustrating device. I know I’m not a typical user: I have to remind myself of its very existence somewhere among my piles and shelves. But it’s not easy to move around an e-book, to flip from page to page, to keep a thumb in one place while I read another, to look back to the contents page or to the index. Footnotes get shunted all over the place. In the end, as often as not, I just don’t bother. The only real advantage the e-reader has is that I can carry several hundred books around in the physical volume of a single paperback.

When, perhaps in ten years’ time, someone has developed an e-book with pages like a real book has, but that can display the text of any book and all my books, perhaps storing their text and illustrations in memory built into its hard cover, then, perhaps, the printed book may be on its way out. I’m not holding my breath.

Death of the e-reader?

October 14, 2015

I read last week that sales of a certain e-reader are so low that Waterstones are to stop selling them. Is the day of the e-book coming to an early end, I wondered? And that got me thinking about the nature of texts.

I know that hieroglyphs, one of the earliest kinds of sign-making, originally represented specific objects, later coming to stand for specific sounds, and that this was a stage on the way to the developments of alphabets, and the kinds of writing most of us are familiar with, unless you are Chinese, in which case you have ideograms, which to me seem to be a different progression from hieroglyphs.

What one writes on has also moved on; clay and wax tablets co-existed with papyrus and vellum; lightness and flexibility seem to have been the game-changers. The Romans wrote on scrolls, and these have serious limitations in terms of usability, which seem to be similar to the limitations of e-books: when the codex gradually developed into the paper book which we recognise, had it reached its most flexible and lasting form?

If you’re reading a certain column in a long scroll, you are basically stuck there; you can go back or fast-forward a column or two relatively easily, but that’s it. The same is true of an e-book, really, unless you know exactly what page something you’re looking for is on, and page numbers may change if you adjust the font size… with a ‘real’ book, you can easily flick through all the pages in either direction pretty rapidly, and your eye can often pick out what you’re looking for from the smallest of clues. Or you can jump to the index, or table of contents. Obviously the paper book can be reasonably light, pretty durable, and apart from daylight needs nothing else to enable you to read it. And books that have sat on my shelves, in some cases for a decade or two, can still be opened and read. True, the glue may have rotted and the paper be foxed, especially if it’s a book printed in Britain, but no-one has had an e-reader long enough to try the same experiment yet.

I have an e-reader, and use it very occasionally. It’s earned its keep through allowing me to read long out-of-print books that cost a small fortune to buy in paper form. But I’m not sure I’d buy one again, now. I think that the rise of the tablet has doomed the e-reader, even though reading is actually easier on an e-ink screen.

I can see that it’s logical for reference books and dictionaries to be replaced by online electronic versions: they’re much more up-to-date and easier to access. I find it so much easier to refer to online dictionaries when I’m reading a book in French: type in the word, and there’s the definition; no 2kg of Petit Robert to haul up from the floor with its 2500 pages to turn through. When I’m doing my German or Spanish homework, an online dictionary is really helpful: all possible variants, parts of speech, tenses etc illustrated on the same page, again triggered by the typing of a single word.

So I think the e-reader was a passing phase, an attempt to improve on something that didn’t really do the trick, or at least insufficiently well to break the monopoly of paper. And the tablet has its place for reference books or books on holiday, and probably scores because it can do so many other things as well. And although the fields where paper does it best have narrowed slightly, the death of the printed book is not about to happen.

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